


Basic Black

by lamardeuse



Series: Getting To Know You [5]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-05
Updated: 2010-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 07:52:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamardeuse/pseuds/lamardeuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series to accompany Season Two of SGA. Part Five: Condemned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Basic Black

**Author's Note:**

> Please note: rating refers to overall series rating. Individual parts may carry a lower rating.

Dammit, Rodney really needed to quit staring at him.

Elizabeth was asking Rodney something, and Rodney was not answering, because he was too busy staring at John across the table.  Luckily, he was also too exhausted to adequately convey to the rest of the people around the table how horny he was; instead, he just looked like his mind had left the planet for a nice vacation. 

Or so John hoped. 

“Rodney?” Elizabeth said.  “Rodney, did you hear me?”

John raised his eyebrows.  “I’m afraid Doctor McKay is not in at the moment.  Please leave a message at the sound of the beep.”

Elizabeth sighed.  “Well, it’s been a long day for all of us, especially you,” she said, nodding at John and his team.  “Let’s wrap this up in the morning.  Oh nine hundred?”

John nodded and rose to his feet in concert with Teyla, Ronon and Lorne, and then the knee he’d twisted while leaping through the gate _thunked _into place and locked.  Great.  Rodney was practically vibrating with _holy-shit-we’re-alive-gotta-fuck-now_ energy, and he was too crippled to move.  This was, John realized, probably the first time Rodney had felt that in its full, pulse-jolting, dick-hardening intensity—well, at least the first time he’d had a chance of satisfying it with something other than his own right hand.  They’d been in death-defying situations recently, but they’d been too fried after the siege to do anything about it, and fucking on the _Daedalus _had been out of the question. 

John hated to do this to him, but he was going to have to beg off.  He had sore muscles where he didn’t even know he had muscles, and he was asleep on his feet.  There was no way he was going to be able to perform.

_God,_ John thought wearily.  _I’m getting old.  Forget gray hairs and wrinkles; turning down sex is the first sign._

Rodney chose that moment to return from the dead.  “Hunh?  What did you say, Elizabeth?”

Ronon let out a low chuckle as Rodney blinked at the rapidly emptying room.  “Too much excitement for you?” he rumbled.

Rodney whipped his head around and fixed Ronon with a withering glare, and John was reminded of the look he’d given one of their captors in the hut as he was being trussed up.

John’s eyes widened as his body reacted.  Well, hell.  Maybe he wasn’t so old after all.

“C’mon, Rodney,” he said, sparing both of them the agony of watching Ronon swat Rodney like a mosquito.  “We’re all going to bed.”

“We are?” Rodney smiled at him goofily, completely stunned.

John met Ronon’s steady gaze.

“Yeah,” John said, eyes still on Ronon.  “And if you’re a good boy, I’ll tuck you in and read you a bedtime story.”

Ronon’s smile was so close to nonexistent that John decided to let it go.  He nodded, then left them alone.

Rodney looked at him.  Grinned.

“No,” John said.  “Don’t even think about it.”

Rodney went back to glaring.

“Um,” John said, brain rapidly heading south.  “Maybe.”

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
“What—the hell—_is_ this?” Rodney demanded, his hands gripping John’s ass with intent as John shoved him against the wall of Rodney’s quarters.

John nipped at his neck, tasting dirt and smoke.  “Just adrenaline, Rodney,” he murmured.  “Better than Viagra.”

“Who needs Viagra with you wearing that shirt?  _God._”  Rodney’s hands slid up under said shirt, palms skimming over John’s aching muscles, leaving delicious heat in their wake.

John pulled back and frowned at him.  “I wear this shirt all the time.”

“You’re usually wearing that puffy jacket over it, and it’s a—a—a combined effect, with the dirt and the look—”

“What look?”

Rodney made an inarticulate noise, hands fisting against John’s shoulder blades.  “The look, the look, you know, that whole ‘Don’t fuck with me, I’m in charge,’ look, which really shouldn’t be that hot when you’re tied up and basically helpless, but—”

“Jesus, Rodney, you’re one kinky guy, you know that?  You were thinking all of this while the nice men were threatening to shoot us?”

Rodney’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment.  “No!  It’s—well—maybe it was kind of playing in the background.  Way—in the background…”

“Well, okay,” John said, willing to be magnanimous now that Rodney was squirming against him like—oh, man, like _that_—“I guess I kind of liked your t-shirt.”

Rodney lifted his head. 

John shrugged. 

Rodney made a weird kind of growly noise John had never heard him make before, and before he knew what the hell was happening their positions were reversed and he was being ground against the wall by one turned-on, panting scientist.

“Holy shit, Rodney,” John managed, because how the hell had he _done _that, and also _ow_, his knee got a little wrenched there, and now Rodney’s big hands were grabbing at John’s and yanking his arms up above his head, where he was pinning them to the wall…

“You—I—God, I—_please_,” Rodney begged, voice muffled by John’s shirt.  His hips were still undulating shamelessly and he had one hand wrapped around John’s crossed wrists while the other molded itself briefly to John’s dick, then fumbled at the button. Before he could manage the zipper, though, he stiffened and shuddered convulsively, his breath puffing short, hot blasts against John’s neck.

“Fuck,” was all John could think to say at this point, because Rodney had just come and John was about five seconds behind and they still had all their damn clothes on and he’d had one college girlfriend who'd wanted to tie him up and he’d said no but apparently he was a kinky bastard after all—

The moment Rodney’s big, dirty hand touched bare skin, John shivered and came so hard his knee gave out like an eighteen-wheeler blowing a tire on the freeway.

    
    
    
    
 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

    
    
    
    
 

  
“You should have told me,” Rodney scolded him for the tenth time, after they’d limped their way over to Rodney’s bed and Rodney had laboriously undressed both of them.

John sighed.  “I didn’t know we were going to get that—athletic.”

Rodney scowled; John firmly admonished his dick to keep quiet.  “I didn’t want to hurt you,” Rodney said petulantly, touching John’s knee with tentative fingertips.

“Just tie me up a little.”

“No!  I didn’t—I—”

John pursed his lips.  “We could try it sometime.  I guess.”

“Oh my God,” Rodney breathed.  He stared at John like he was a double chocolate power bar.

“Sometime,” John hedged.  “Not now.”

Rodney nodded convulsively.  “Oh, sure, of course.”  He waved a hand.  “Did you ever—uh—I mean, did you ever do any of that—stuff?”

“No.  I thought about it, though.” John lay back and smiled at him.  “Thought about tying _you _up.”

“Me?” Rodney squeaked, face flushing.

John’s smile turned to a smirk.  “In a totally non-sexual way.  There was always a gag involved.”

Rodney narrowed his eyes dangerously. 

“Oh, man,” John groaned.  There was just no way that look should turn him on that much.

“Are you all right?” Rodney asked, suddenly worried.  “Is your knee still sore?”

“Uh, yeah,” John lied.  “Yeah, a little.”

Rodney’s fingers danced over his skin again.  “Is there anything I can do?”

“Well, you _could _kiss it better.”

John was expecting—hoping, to tell the truth—that Rodney would get really pissy this time, but instead his face acquired an odd expression, pinched and strangely upset.

And then he bent down, closed his eyes and pressed his lips to John’s knee.

“Jesus,” John breathed.  “Rodney—”  He raised his head and stared, unable to believe that Doctor Rodney McKay was actually kissing his hair-covered knee like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Shhh,” Rodney said, the current of air tickling John’s skin.  His mouth slowly trailed up John’s thigh, then back down again.  John’s head, suddenly too heavy for his neck, flopped back down onto the pillow with a _thud_.  He summoned the coordination to reach down and thread his fingers through Rodney’s hair as Rodney worked his way north again.

“I was scared back there,” Rodney murmured against John’s thigh.  “But not of them.  I was afraid of _you_.  Afraid you’d tell me—to pick you first.”

John blinked up at the ceiling.  “I wouldn’t have forced you to make that decision.  But yeah, I would have told them to do it, if it had come to that.”

Pausing in his explorations, Rodney rested his head on John’s leg.  He was immobile for so long that John was beginning to think he’d fallen asleep, until he heard Rodney’s voice, quiet and rough:

“Could someone please explain to me why in hell I had to fall for a hero?”

John couldn’t think of any reasonable explanations, because his heart had just stopped beating.  By the time it started up again, Rodney really had tumbled into sleep with his head pillowed on John’s thigh and John’s hand still tangled in his fine, soft hair.

**Author's Note:**

> First published August 2005.


End file.
